Dog of War
by S J Smith-Evil Little Dog
Summary: It really was a waste, what they put these boys through.   Chimera!Ed story, the way I see it happening.  A.U.
1. Dog of War

**Title: **Dog of War

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** T

**Summary: **"What a waste," he muttered.

**Disclaimer:** Arakawa owns all.

X X X

"Just put the damn thing out of its misery." Breda grimaced at the carnage on the table before him.

Securing a saline drip, Winry snapped, "This dog saved your life."

"It is a tool of war." Sneering, Breda flicked his hand at the dog. "Tools get broken. Broken tools get pitched. Sooner you learn that, the better, girl."

Slapping the table, Winry growled, "He's not a tool!"

"We'll take care of your dog, Breda," Dr. Marcoh said simultaneously, waving him off before Winry exploded. Breda didn't wait, hotfooting it out the surgery.

"Doesn't Breda care if we can save his dog?" Shaking off the implication, Winry turned her attention to the table.

"I'm not sure we can. It's pretty bad." Marcoh gestured at the extent of the wounds: one limb blown off, another almost completely missing. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandages. "Hmm…name tag says 'Fullmetal'."

Stroking the tangle of golden fur from the dog's dull, amber eyes, Winry revealed a heart-shaped face set with a snub nose. The dog groaned, his paw curling up over her hand, seeking her comfort, almost as if he was still human.

"I wonder who made this dog. It doesn't look to be more than a boy." Picking up a plunger full of barbiturates, Marcoh muttered, "What a waste."

Fullmetal growled softly. His claws wrapped around her fingers, surprising her with their strength. Winry shook her head as Marcoh turned. "No, Doc. Not that stuff. Fullmetal's not ready to be put to sleep yet."

X X X


	2. Blitzkreig

**Title: **Blitzkreig

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** T

**Summary: **The dog keeps surprising Winry.

**Disclaimer:** Arakawa owns all.

X X X

The dog's face distorted into a fierce display of teeth, and Dr. Marcoh touched Winry's arm. "Don't get too close."

"He's not dangerous." Winry said it confidently, knowing the dog wasn't about to bite her. They were chosen for their cleverness, after all, and she'd been taking care of him since he'd been carried in from the battlefield. Severe wounds not withstanding, the dog – Fullmetal – seemed likely to survive. Dr. Marcoh thought it might be from sheer tenacity – another trait dogs were chosen for, though Winry had seen him staring at the dog when he thought she wasn't looking. The expression on his face held something she couldn't quite read, frustrating her.

Fullmetal tried to get up, snarling when he flopped back to the bedding. Digging claws into the rumpled blankets, he tried to drag himself across the floor. He raised his head, focusing on Winry even through the haze of painkillers he was on. She swallowed hard, squatting in front of him, in reach of those sharp teeth and razor claws. Fullmetal's harsh gaze softened and something stabbed into her heart like a knife.

He jerked his head up, tilting it from side to side, then roared, flinging himself at her. Winry heard Dr. Marcoh's shout as Fullmetal's body covered her own. Her hands clenched into his hair to drag his mouth away from her throat, but she froze, hearing the tell-tale whistle of missiles.

When Fullmetal finally relaxed enough to roll off her, Winry wasn't sure she could move. The explosions had been too close, rocking the hospital tent, sending tables, gurneys and cabinets crashing. She'd heard Dr. Marcoh shouting but hadn't been able to decipher his words from the explosions.

The dog lay on his back, eyes half-closed, IVs torn loose and new wounds oozing blood. Dr. Marcoh limped over to her, laying his hand on Winry's shoulder as she stared down at the dog. "I guess we know if he snarls like that again, it's a sure sign we're in trouble." Leaning down, he touched the dog's chest, getting an eye roll for his concern. "Let's get you back to your bed, Fullmetal, and patch you up again."

Winry lay a blanket out next to Fullmetal and they rolled the compliant dog onto it, using the blanket as a skid to pull him back to his bedding. The dog wriggled onto it without complaint, though Winry could feel his eyes following her. She tried not to meet them, not wanting to think too hard about what she thought she'd heard during a particularly close explosion:

The dog's lips, pressed nearly to her ear, and his voice, a soft, deep rumble, somehow louder than the attack itself.

"I'll keep you safe."

X X X

NOTE: I do not know if I will be returning to this idea, but I loved these two stories too much, though they were written over a year ago, to just leave them on my hard drive. I hope you enjoy them.


	3. Mad Dogs and Amestrians

Mad Dogs and Amestrians

* * *

><p>The war dog lay on a pallet made of straw and an old blanket in the corner of the mobile hospital's office. Marcoh tried to ignore it, but he could still sense it there.<p>

It wasn't that chimerӕ were uncommon. The war dogs were part of the reason Amestris did so well on the battlefield. Created by transmuting human and animals into one form, they were an effective part of the Amestrian ground forces. They had been in military use for at least two generations, helped win wars against Drachma's and Aerugo's encroachments into Amestris. Because of this dog, most of the unit it had been assigned to came back alive from a skirmish. It didn't mean Marcoh thought that making chimerӕ was right. Humans and animals, transmuted into one being, the idea made his stomach roil.

Trying to keep from shuddering, Marcoh forced his attention back on his paperwork. If he had his way, the dog wouldn't be in the office. He'd never spent much time around a chimera before. Usually, when one came through the surgery, it was taken away to continue its convalescence. This dog should've been exterminated, as it had lost its front leg from its shoulder, and most of its back leg. Winry insisted it deserved a chance, and refused to allow Marcoh to send it into a permanent sleep.

Now, it took up room on the office floor, watching every move he made. Marcoh could feel it watching him, especially now, while he worked. Did it consider him to be prey? Couldd it feel pain like a human any more? Could it think or reason? He shook his head, driving those thoughts away. Military policy was to consider them animals, like the war horses or the mules that hauled the artillery before automobiles were invented. Property.

Winry came into the office, and the dog turned toward her. Her bright smile flashed Marcoh's way, but she continued across the office to the dog. "Hi, Fullmetal," she said, kneeling next to it. "I brought you something to eat."

"Careful, Winry!" Marcoh barked. "It's not a pet!"

"No, he's not." Winry set the tray in front of the dog. "But he's not a killing machine, either." Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sat next to the dog as it hesitantly picked up a piece of bacon, sniffing it before taking a bite.

Marcoh swallowed hard, focusing his attention on the papers on his desk. Still, he couldn't get it out of his mind; not with the way the war dog had looked at Winry when she'd walked through the door. From the expression in Fullmetal's eyes at the sight of her, it was going to be harder to keep thinking of it as an animal. But there was no other choice, not in the middle of a war. Maybe not even in a time of peace. War dogs were animals, nothing more, and if he kept repeating it to himself, maybe he'd eventually believe it, too.


End file.
